rexe

My granddad Ewing died this morning.

This is my grandfather whom I have not seen nor spoken to in almost six years.

I'm a blubbering wreck.

He died of complications of hip surgery, and other things that were caused by a fall in the night. He died at home and not in a hospital.

I will not be going to the funeral due to the fact that we can't get up to Maine; my father is already up there.


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
-Dylan Thomas

Ewing and my grandmother had a record of Dylan Thomas reciting his works; this was on it.